Cut and Run 5 - Armed and Dangerous

said with a firm nod. “Because you’re mean. He can’t risk the PR nightmare if you were on the streets.”
    Zane didn’t think his behavior had been that bad. “You’re exaggerating.”
    “You told Clancy to take her pom-poms and go home.”
    Zane wrinkled his nose. “She was going on about how great What’s-His-Name from Financial Crimes is.”
    “Yeah, well, you probably ought to apologize.”
    “I’m not apologizing when she’s dating the guy.” Zane’s phone, sitting on the bench with his towel, began to chime. He turned to pick it up.
    “They hooked up? Michelle and What’s-His-Name?”
    “Yeah. Keeping it quiet, though, so keep your mouth shut,” Zane said as he looked at his phone’s display. It was a Washington, DC number, one he didn’t know.
    “Why is she dating a guy from Financial Crimes?” Perrimore asked. He sounded exasperated.
    Zane shrugged and hit the button to answer the call. “Special Agent Zane Garrett.”
    “Garrett, Burns here,” the caller said. He didn’t offer his title, even though it was an impressive one. He didn’t even offer a hello. “I need you on a plane in less than two hours.”
    Zane figured he must have looked surprised, because Perrimore frowned and pointed at the phone, mouthing, “Who is it?”
    Zane shook his head. “A plane to where?”
    “Chicago, but I don’t have time to explain further. There will be information in your locker,” Burns said, sounding harried and impatient.
    Zane glanced at the clock high on the wall. It was almost five in the morning. Normally a call at this time would have caught Zane still in bed. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m at the office.”
    “Should I tap someone else for this, Agent Garrett?” Burns asked, his customary composure somewhat lacking. “Because I’ve got less than fifteen minutes to find my man a backup, and I recall that you used to be less talkative.”
    Zane frowned. There was something weird about this. “No, sir. I can leave immediately.”
    “You do that, then. Take a lesson from your partner, Zane. Every minute you spend being a smartass is one minute on the other side that you’re not there for someone who’s counting on you.” He ended the call without waiting for Zane’s response.
    Zane pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it as if it might lunge and snap his head off. “What the hell?” Whatever had happened had Burns more riled than Zane had ever heard him. Zane looked at Perrimore. “I gotta go.” He grabbed his towel and took off at a run for the locker room.
    “Hey, what’s going on? Garrett!” Perrimore called after him.
    Zane didn’t stop to answer. He could be showered and dressed and in his truck in ten minutes. BWI wasn’t far away.

Chapter 2

    I T HAD been a whirlwind few hours. A single card of information—airline and flight time out of Baltimore; a time and place in Chicago—had been waiting on the top shelf of Zane’s locker, along with a ticket for a nonstop to O’Hare.
    Zane had, upon occasion, worked with less information. And he knew enough about how Burns worked not to even be bothered with his methods.
    He’d made it to BWI with barely enough time to change into the suit he’d had in the truck. He’d taken the time during the past two days to repack the small duffel bag he kept in the truck for when he needed a change of clothes and more than a couple of spare magazines for his Glock. He’d been able to check the duffel, along with his arsenal.
    That he was in a hurry to serve as backup for another agent, he understood. Why it all translated into Burns being so tense, he had no idea. It was more than a little unnerving, actually, because it brought back memories of clandestine assignments he’d thought he’d buried. It made him wonder what Ty could possibly be doing for Burns that Burns needed to call Zane in on a job. This wasn’t the first time Zane had worked for the assistant director at the order of a single phone call. It was just the first time he’d done it since he was sober.
    Zane tried to clear his mind as he waited for the plane to land and taxi to the gate. After the all clear, he pulled on his wool coat and headed up the skyway with a purpose. His plane was on time, not too surprising for an early morning flight, and his contact was supposed to meet him at the security point where the gate let out of the concourse proper, near baggage claim.
    At quarter to seven, O’Hare was bustling, and it helped Zane shrug